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Saturday, November 29, 2014

My teenage son has come back to live with me. It seems that it wasn't working out at his father's place. Who could have seen that coming...? (It was written in the fucking stars)

Where I'm currently living, there is no room for him, so he has been boarding with a friend. I thank the universe that his friends mumma bear just got it, without me having to go into minuet detail. I didn't have to fill in all the blanks.

My time where I am living is coming to end. I've been searching and applying frantically for places, so I can make a home for Nathan and I. As yet - nothing. Oh the irony that I can write and connect on the internet, but are, for all means and purposes, essentially homeless as of Wednesday. That I have an iPad, a laptop, an iPhone, a car...yet no home.

I just stood in my kitchen, clutched my hair, and yelled at the ceiling, HOW THE FUCK DID I GET HERE?

Don't worry, I know the answer to that. What I'm still working out is how the fuck do I get out of 'here'?

I am funning on blind faith. Like I have never done before. I don't have the answers, or solutions. I usually do. It's a strange land to be in, where I don't know the lay of the land. Everything is unfamiliar, strange and uncertain. I just keep looking. For a house. For a job. And sending it out there to the universe, every single second, that it's all going to be ok.

Thursday, May 1, 2014

So... I hit further then rock bottom. I wanted out. I said my goodbyes to my children. Counted my tablets and was waiting for my heart friend to leave for work.

Next thing I know there are two ambos in my bedroom. My daughter had called them. Pretty fucked up. To put my beautiful girl in that position.

Long story short - if I didn't agree to come into the mental health ward they would place an order on me. So I agreed. Eventually. I can't guarantee right now that I won't do something to stop the pain. And the numbness. How can you feel nothing and everything all at the same time?

I've lost my smile.

My ability to feel "Joie de vivre".

All I feel is numb, and raw, all at the same time. Depression envelops me... A wet heavy blanket.

The only movement through my body is the constant trembling, it's intensity only decreasing with swallowing a little yellow pill.

My throat closes....A feeling I haven't felt in years. Sweat trickles down my sides, the exertion from trembling with anxiety it's only impetus.

Most of the time I'm in a disassociative state, disconnected from my body.
People ask me questions and my mind freezes, unable to form words to answer.
In the rare moments when I can hold a conversation, the words to explain something turn evade me - I know that they are there, but I can't remember them.

Tuesday, April 22, 2014

I have two types of people in my life. Those that have known me for a long time, and those that are relative newcomers.

The people in my life that I've known for over ten years have seen me fall down, pick myself up, and carry on. There are a handful who have seen me do it numerous times, from the very first time 12 years ago, when the light of hope that lived in my heart had been extinguished, and my strength to carry the facade that I had been living behind ceased. And with it, my will to live.

Apparently the universe had other ideas when my psyche shattered 12 years ago, and sent me an angel who rescued me from myself. A month later, after 17 days in the local psych ward, and two weeks away resting, the light of hope had been reignited, albeit, a tiny little flame, the façade had been laid down for good, and the real VICKY took her first few faltering steps out into the world, to live in all her authenticity.

Its been a journey these last 12 years, full of triumphs, victories and tears. Marked throughout it have been periods of time when I have fallen down and travelled through the dark tight space that I now understand to be my amygdala, the part of my brain responsible for processing emotions relating particualy to survival, and determining where memories will be stored. It is this part of my brain that switches into overdrive when certain events trigger it, and responds with overactive fear response. I used to call it my impending sense of doom. Now I call it what it is - Complex - Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

What's the difference between Complex PTSD and PTSD? That's an answer I went in search of when I fell back into trauma in March last year. I needed to know why that wench anxiety had its tight grip around my throat - yet again! And why does it keep happening??

Everything I had read about PTSD indicated that after the trauma that had triggered PTSD had been processed, "normality" returns. How come my "normal" keeps getting disrupted, time and time again??

A website I discovered, Out of the fog, described it perfectly:

"Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (C-PTSD) is a condition that results from chronic or long-term exposure to emotional trauma over which a victim has little or no control and from which there is little or no hope of escape..."

"The "Complex" in Complex Post Traumatic Disorder describes how one layer after another of trauma can interact with one another."

"C-PTSD results more from chronic repetitive stress from which there is little chance of escape. PTSD can result from single events, or short term exposure to extreme stress or trauma."

http://outofthefog.net/Disorders/CPTSD.html

A week ago that flame that had be reignited went out. Again. The pain of continually falling into trauma was like being caught in a set of dumper waves, thrown down to the sand, spun around, frantically searching for the surface, only to be picked up and dumped again.

I now know that a contributing factor to the descent of my mood into wanting to exit this world and stop the pain - for me and for everyone around me, was being put on a new medication Mirtazapine. If I had known it's brand name Avanza, I would never have agreed to go on it. I had taken it before and went back to my Doctor two weeks later telling her I had to stop taking it as it was not just making my mood lower, but was making me feel constantly angry.

Thankfully the doctors here have listened to me, and I am no longer on it.

I will be here for another week, and in that time are hopeful that I will connect with support and resources to help me swim out of the set of dumper waves, and learn new skills and tools to help me from being triggered into trauma.

Andwith that I will leave you with this:

If I could be you and you could be me for just one hourIf we could find a way to get inside each other's mindIf you could see you through my eyes, instead of your egoI believe you'd be surprised to see, that you'd been blind

Walk a mile in my shoesWalk a mile in my shoesAnd before you abuse, criticize and accuseWalk a mile in my shoes

Now your whole world you see around you is just a reflectionAnd the law of karma, says you reap, just what you sowSo unless you've lived a life of total perfectionYou'd better be careful of every stone that you should throwWalk a mile in my shoesWalk a mile in my shoesAnd before you abuse, criticize and accuseWalk a mile in my shoes

And yet we spend the day throwing stones at one another'Cause I don't think or wear my hair the same way you doWell, I may be common people but I'm your brotherAnd when you strike out and try to hurt me it's a-hurtin' you

Walk a mile in my shoesWalk a mile in my shoesAnd before you abuse, criticize and accuseWalk a mile in my shoes

There are people on reservations and out in the ghettosAnd brother, there but for the grace of God, go you and IIf I only had the wings of a little angelDon't you know I'd fly to the top of the mountain and then I'd cry

Walk a mile in my shoesWalk a mile in my shoesAnd before you abuse, criticize and accuseWalk a mile in my shoes

Walk, walk, walk a mile in my shoesWalk a mile in my shoesAnd before you abuse, criticize and accuseWalk a mile in my shoes

Walk, walk, walk a mile in my shoesWalk, walk, walk a mile in my shoesBefore you abuse, criticize and accuseWalk a mile in my shoes

Monday, April 21, 2014

So I went back to the surgeon, and saw his resident, because, well I guess he's entitled to, he was on holidays. Age and experience are vastly different between the surgeon, and his resident. Which probably accounts for his total blasé attitude while discussing the tumour they removed from my breast. Apparently, it was 3.5cm, with a margin of 1mm to my skin, 3mm to my chest muscle, and 1cm on each other side. It was a high grade tumour, meaning it grows quickly, has both progesterone and estrogen hormone receptors attached to the cancerous cells, and has been successfully removed. Great, right? My heart friend who was with me couldn't understand why I wasn't ecstatic at the news. I mean, I'm happy that its gone, but my gut feels uneasy. Very uneasy. Too close. Those margins...too close.There will be a meeting in two weeks between surgeon, oncologist, and whoever else is involved in these things, to discuss my case and what they suggest happens next, and I will see them a week later. When I go, I want to be far more informed then I was the other day. I have been researching and reading articles on Breast Cancer Network Australia, Cancer Australia, McGrath Foundation, National Breast Cancer Foundation , and have joined a support group on Facebook for Younger Women with Breast Cancer. They have been a god send.

This is MY body, and I don't want to be 6 months down the track only to have to go through this again - or worse. I want to be proactive, not reactive. Informed, not naïve. I'm intelligent woman, who isn't prepared to put blind faith in the medical profession.

I'm also a scared woman, in the midst of yet another round of trauma... god damn C-PTSD.

Thursday, April 17, 2014

Last Thursday I had a lumpectomy on my right breast to remove the 3.3cm tumour that was happily growing there. It was having quite a party it seems, as it is deemed high grade - meaning its been growing fast.

Tomorrow I find out if those little fuckers have remained in-situ, or have decided that the area they were rapidly multiplying in was becoming to small for them, and have punched their way through the walls of my ducts.

So, tomorrow, limbo comes to cessation, and I get to find out whether I'm going through door number 1 - The cancer cells have not punched their way through, and there is a nice clear margin around the tumour showing NO cancer cells. Once my lumpectomy has healed I will have radiation therapy for 5 days a week for 6 weeks.

Or - door number 2 - The cancer is invasive and ..... a whole lot of other more scary type shit happens.

What ever door I get presented with, at least I'm not in limbo anymore, driving myself slowly insane, and I can make a plan.

Feeling slightly like a contestant on the New Price is Right. Only I wish there was a new car, or a dream holiday behind the doors....

Friday, March 28, 2014

My head is spinning on its axis, unable to finish a thought or question, before it has leapt onto the next one.

I’m a tad overwhelmed…. To say the least.

I’m incredibly thankful for my beautiful soul sisters. All
of them. But especially Sharon. Because we have been there, done that three years
ago. She is my inspiration.

As we sat in the car, and I yelled FUCK FUCKFUCK ,
she said to me, the words I had stoically said to her nearly three years ago - “We can do
this. One step at a time.” And if I believed it then, when I said it to her, I
need to believe it now, as she says it to me.

Wednesday, January 15, 2014

She has graduated from high school, the last two under stressful circumstances. Received two awards, been accepted into ACU in the young achievers program, before op results were released!, got beautifully frocked up for her formal, and turned 18.

I can't believe I have an 18 year old daughter. I have an ADULT child. How did that happen?

She is amazing. Her tenacity will get her far in life. She never never gives up.